Wishing For Invisibility

When it came deciding where to go for the weekend, the Shore was a much more inviting destination than E-town, and so that’s where I rolled late Friday nite.

Poured my heart out to my best friend about the frustration of being without a job despite the fact I go out on interviews on a daily basis and am constantly checking every classified I can get my hands on. Jon held me in his tattooed arms for a long time and just listened, offering kind words where they were needed. Then he rolled a fat blunt; we smoked and walked along the ocean. Such a contrast between being around the constant hub of activity here and being in such solitude down there.

He spent Saturday nite driving me around South Jersey, where we met up with some of his friends and sat out in the woods getting shitfaced on Moonshine. Then somene passes around brownies, and as soon as I have one in my mouth, Jon had this look on his face. It wasn’t until after I was finished eating it that he laughed and told me it had mushrooms in it. The rest of that evening was spent fucking around in the woods playing hide-and-seek, tho I’m not sure anyone ever won.

Sunday we just relaxed, had an amazing breakfast, got high and enjoyed flying kites out on the beach. Always such a nice way to spend time with someone who cares about you, and makes me wonder why I even bother to think about the Asshole.

Took two trips this week.

Returned to the Shore on Monday, and honestly if I didn’t have to do some laundry up here at the house, I would have stayed with Jon for the whole weekend. It was a bit chilly and dreary, so we didn’t go to the boardwalk as planned. Ate some brownies instead and went wandering in the woods. There was a time when this sort of activity would have scared me, because I used to have this weird phobia about such places. Chalk that up to watching on too many horror movies where some masked stranger would stalk thru the dense population of trees prior to slaughtering his chosen victims. However, when I am with Jon, in this situation or any other, there is always a sense of safety that surrounds me. Perhaps that’s due to the fact he holds my hand tightly any time we enter the mystery of the Pine Barrens, and he enjoys entertaining me with stories of the Jersey Devil as well as other assorted myths and legends.

The time passes in ways I usually can only remember in random slices. Walking hand-in-hand from his Chevy into the towering trees, various debris crunching under our feet. Shadows dance across us as the numerous piney branches above block out the sun. Things move and it’s hard to tell whether I am hallucinating or it’s the wind or possible a native-dwelling critter scampering thru the forest. Our laughter is lost among those trees as we escape further from reality and at moments become completely disconnected. It’s just the two of us; partners in crime adventuring thru our own wonderland for hours on end while forgetting that the rest of New Jersey even exists.

Eventually the whole scenerio shifts to being plastered on his couch with a blunt gripped tightly between my finger tips, floating in and out of discussions that always cover a wide range of topics. These are the moments where I get to appreciate my best friend, the brother I love like no other and value more than anyone I have ever known. He smiles at me in a way that generates the same expression on my own lips, and there’s nothing else I could ask for than that warm happiness that fills me ever second we spend together. Then it all comes to an end; I gather my things and drive back to this depressing house and lie awake while recounting my amazing adventure.

Yesterday we went into NYC to drink mushroom tea in Tompkins Square Park. Every now and then it’s nice to take a visit to the City where we spent hours spanging and hustling, because we don’t seem to get up there that much these days. Mostly due to the fact that Jon prefers Jersey, because he says there’s too many negative vibes in the City, and I can understand that even tho he doesn’t quite go into detail about why. There are some questions I just don’t ask; I trust him and that’s what matters most.

This particular journey into the City was one of those random moments where we got into his Chevy and Jon just drove until we found ourselves wandering the streets of the East Village and spanging for entertainment. By the time we reached Thompkins, the jar of ‘shroom juice was empty. We had an interesting conversation with a slightly drunk transient. It was decisively odd, but it felt good to bring just a little bit of joy into someone’s life. Also chilled with some squatters, gutter punks, hobos…whatever they want to be called. In short, awesome people who swapped stories of life on the rails while we passed a blunt around and annoyed those who were just trying to enjoy the open air of the park.

As usual, we were gawked at by every ‘normal person, as well as the I’m more [insert stereotypical genre here] than you, therefore I’m too damn good to talk to you knuckleheads. Oh no, you have more studs on your clothes than I do, therefor doth art wholely more ‘scene’ than I can ever hope to be. *pfft*

What is the deal with that kind of attitude anyway? Just because we’re not as ‘hardcore’ as these people, who are more concerned with the superficiality of appearance and the ability to rattle off the most popular bands of their chosen genre, they seem to look down their noses at us.

We sat and talked with a guy who has his whole life packed into a suitcase, panhandles to get by and pissed in public. We spent time with what we consider ‘our people’, who don’t judge us and were so thankful when Jon handed each of them five bucks, even tho he knew they would most likely spend it on drugs or alcohol. These people live free of the stigma society places on them, and that is hardcore.

Now that I’m back here, I feel like all of this was just one big dream, and all I want to do is disappear. Not literally, not permanently or anything like that. More so just be gone from this house, this town and the drama that I have endured, because I am tired of it and want my own life that I don’t have to explain to anyone.

Spawned from the Wilds of Weird New Jersey, my evolution is ongoing as I travel the winding road of life, taking adventures as they come. My passion lies in being a preservationist and historian of American variety arts: circus, sideshow, burlesque, vaudeville, etc. Creativity is a specialty and expressed through various artistic mediums such as writing, painting, collage, photography, body modification and fabricating custom hair art.